


Royal Cousins And Salt Stained Skin

by Quecksilver_Eyes



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: And He Was A Big Dumbass, Edmund is Stuck In Gay Panic, Eustace Is Pissed And Oblivious, Eustace calls his parents by their first names, HE DOESN'T CALL THEM MOTHER AND FATHER, Like in the books, M/M, There Was A Boy Called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, Trans Female Character, Trans Lucy, Trans Male Character, also my poor bby has to eat meat and he's a git, and eustace is an oblivious idiot, and wet, casmund - Freeform, he's my oblivious idiot, i love him tho, that'S one of the things that pissed me off most about dawn treader, they're one of those Weird Families That Call Each Other By Their First Names, trans Edmund
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 04:18:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15744141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quecksilver_Eyes/pseuds/Quecksilver_Eyes
Summary: Edmund’s back is straight, here, his mouth a soft line, his chest unbound. Lucy is climbing on the rigging, her legs in the trousers that belong to the brown skinned man with his arm around Edmund’s shoulders, his dark eyes on Lucy and her laugh.or:Eustace Clarence Scrubb falls through a painting into bitter sea water and a flat world where his cousins are different, and he knows nothing, not even his own skin.this is a companion piece to tzedakah's 'unease does not only sleep in the water'





	Royal Cousins And Salt Stained Skin

**Author's Note:**

> this is a companion piece to tzedakah's 'unease does not only sleep in the water', which can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15743154

Alberta had always called his cousins skittish and silly, with their smiling lips and their hands in each other’s hair. Harold had read the papers and had said nothing.

The air smells like salt and smoke and stable, and his clothes stick to him. Edmund and Lucy are wrapped in blankets, greeted with hugs and smiles and cheers. Eustace wraps his arms around his middle and stares at the animals, at the creatures not quite human, at his cousins amidst it all.

Edmund’s back is straight, here, his mouth a soft line, his chest unbound. Lucy is climbing on the rigging, her legs in the trousers that belong to the brown skinned man with his arm around Edmund’s shoulders, his dark eyes on Lucy and her laugh.

She hasn’t worn trousers since she was five years old, her mouth a frowning scowl, her hands sticky and wet.

  


(He takes the bed in the tiny cabin he shares with Edmund and his friend, whose voice is moving in an accent Eustace doesn’t recognize.

“My throat hurts”, he says, and grabs the covers. “Must’ve been the sea water.”

Caspian tilts his head, and smiles, his hands still on Edmund’s skin.

“Of course”, he says. Edmund looks like he wants to say something else entirely. Eustace sticks his tongue out at him.)

 _High King and Queen of Narnia_ , Caspian had called his cousins, and Eustace thinks of their smiles, their clothes wet, their hair dripping, the sun on their skin. _Edmund the Just and Lucy the Valiant_. Some King and Queen they must be, two teenagers with salt crusted cheeks and empty stomachs.

He doesn’t think of Edmund’s stance, of the edge to Lucy’s smile. Instead, he buries his head under the pillow and tries not to listen to Edmund’s soft snores or the creaking of wood underneath him.

  


(Alberta calls his Aunt Helen a naïve, silly airhead, sometimes, when she is clutching the telephone in the hallway, her knuckles white, her cheeks dotted red, her foot tapping on the floor.

“Your aunt cannot see reason”, she says when she knows he’s listening. “She will, in time.” Eustace says nothing, just thinks of his cousins and their smiles, Peter’s hands and Susan’s dresses, Edmund’s hunched back and Lucy’s bound waist.)

  


There is no window for the sun to shine through, no bells ringing at seven in the morning. Harold isn’t sitting in his armchair, his newspaper in hand, and Alberta isn’t sitting at the breakfast table, her eyes on Edmund’s chest and Lucy’s skirt. There are no vegetables on the breakfast table, no fruit. Caspian hands him a bowl with dried meat and zwieback and Eustace frowns. “If you want something fresh, you’ll have to catch fish”, says the mouse.

There is no door to close, no experiments to watch, no Alberta to cook or Harold to read with.

Instead, there’s just Edmund, with the sun in his hair, and his friend’s hand on his waist. There’s just Lucy, her skin freckled, her hair like gold, and there is just the crew, laughing.

Eustace thinks of the telegram he will send to the British consulate and he cuts into his dried meat.


End file.
